Beleive in the Sheild
by Glitterdune
Summary: The Sheild: A Comedy. Crackfic, born of too much caffeine and not enough sleep! Longsuffering Roman, cranky Ambrose & peppy Seth Lollins ARE... The Sheild. Come read about them doing Sheild stuff! There's banter, friendship, lemonade, light-up shoes and similies that are as original as a werthers original and as well-crafted as like, a rose or something, I dunno.
1. Chapter 1

Authors note:

So I've been writing this stuff as a break from my heavy "serious" fics and I gotta say it's been really fun. Just a chance for me to write deliberately bad descriptions, play around with words and just generally lighten up a bit! The Sheild is comprised of long-suffering Roman Reigns, crazy, whiny Dean Ambrose and peppy doofy Seth Rollins. I just love playing around with these guys! Hope someone out there finds this at least vaguely entertaining!

Beleive in the Sheild:

Roman Reigns is leaning coolly against the wall backstage, his black hair shimmering down his back like wet lines of sweet black molasses. Wet because he always empties his drink of water over his head before a match, shaking his beautiful liquorish lace hair from side to side in slow motion like a handsome dog emerging from behind a waterfall. Seth and Dean are standing beside him, getting themselves pumped up for the promo they're getting ready to shoot. Seth's hair is wet too – he copies Roman in many things, and enjoys emulating this warrior-like ritual – throwing the cap of his bottle aside with a bestial roar and pouring sweet cold lemonade all over himself.

"Believe in the shield! Oh –darn! I'm all sticky! –"

"Dammit Seth, was that lemonade?" Roman growls, and Seth's big guilty face rotates towards him, grinning hugely. "How many times do I have to tell you?" They troop all the way back over to the bathrooms to dab at him with wet tissues and try to get all the lemonade off. It's pretty difficult. He really did pour it all over himself. "Geeze, keep still ...We're gonna be late _again. _ Where did you even get lemonade from?"

"Dean makes it for me!"

"I make it for him," confirms Dean, indistinctly. Roman discerns that he is sucking a lock of Seth's hair in his mouth like a strawberry lace. He is not helping very much with the cleanup process in general.

"Dean can you please help out? Stop chewing his hair for chrissakes"

"But it's so sweet! It's soaked up all the sugar like a wick!"

"If I shut my eyes it feels like there's a little guy climbing up my hair!" Seth declares brightly. "He must think I'm a mountain!" He pulls a stern face to look more like a mountain. It _kind_ of works.

"Seth, can you make this a little easier and just stay_ still? _Quit _wriggling-"_

"AVALAAAANCHE!" yells Dean, grabbing Seth by the shoulders and shaking him vigorously.

"W-W-W-W-W-UW-UW-UW-UW-UWUH!" says Seth loudly in Roman's face. It is not clear what he means but it is certainly a loud, mountain-themed noise. He spins round to tackle Dean enthusiastically and they scuffle for a bit against the sinks until Roman grabs them and pulls them apart.

"STOP! Both of you! We really need to get going - Seth, just run your arms under the tap ok? And Dean, just – don't do anything. Don't distract Seth. I just don't even - when do you even find time to make lemonade for him? Where do you even GET lemons on the road?"

Dean is busy splashing his face with cold water. "You don't need lemons!" he proclaims boldly to the sink. He flicks water at Seth and yells loudly when he gets splashed back – "Don't splash me! Don't fucking splash me ROMAN HE SPLASHED ME! Roman he SPLASHED m- AUGH! FAUGH! He got water ALL OVER ME – Right – i'm gonna fucking _get _you – you sonofaBITCH – CM'ERE" Another scuffle ensues. Roman is feeling very tired and doesn't break it up immediately. Roman needs a quiet moment to himself. He pinches the bridge of his nose and doesn't say anything for a bit.

"I didn't splash you! The WATER splashed you! SO THERE DEAN AMBROSE, how can _I _splash you I'm not even wet DEAN AMBROSE, that's _water _you're thinking of - "

"I want reparations you little bitch – give me your shoes –"

"NO! Get off! Get OFF! "

"They'll suit me better! Just –gimme– hold still -"

"They're MINE! Dean quit it! Let go! Uff –Roman make him let GO!"

"You can have mine! Stop KICKING me! Roman he's KICKING me!"

"Yours aren't light up! They don't even have Velcro! Why would I even want your stupid ugly lace-ups?"

"YOU'RE ugly! I'll take off my laces and fucking CHOKE you –"

"Woah, woah, c'mon guys – Seth, don't kick him in the head, we need him to look pretty for the camera. Dean, c'mon man get up from there, the floor's filthy. Let go of his leg!" Roman lifts Dean up by the carry handle on the back of his jacket and sets him on his feet.

"He started it," Dean gripes, but he grudgingly admits the importance of him looking pretty for the cameras. He's going to be on the stage tonight – and he intends to SPARKLE on it like the star he is! He wonders if it's too late to get some sparkle from somewhere. Seth probably has some glitter he could borrow. He's probably carrying a vial of it in his pockets right now. Dean muses this possibility as he styles his hair in the mirror.

It is such wonderful hair –as brown as a beautiful brown stick, and as tangled as the branches that the stick was once a part of. _Wow, _thinks Seth to himself, watching Dean coyly from behind his fingertips , _that is one stick I WOULDN'T clear off my lawn, if you know what I mean! _Seth knows _exactly_ what he means! He winks slyly to himself in the mirror, chuckling softly.

"Good. Right. Well." Says Roman, trying to change the subject (it is best not to encourage Seth too much). "So – this lemonade - did you seriously say you don't need lemons?"

"Yup" Dean says, running his fingers sensually through his chocolate curls. Seth goes quiet because he is thinking thoughts about chocolate.

"You don't need lemons for lemonade?" presses Roman.

"uhhh... Yeah? Obviously?" Dean throws him an incredulous look.

"Uhhh, _duh_, Roman, "homestyle lemonade" mean anything to you?" chimes in Seth, trying to hook his leg from behind. Roman completely ignores his attempts. "When life gives you no lemons, make lemonade?' Have you really never heard that?"

"That's - I'm pretty sure that's not the saying..."

"Yeah, that's the saying," says Dean. "I guess I can see why you don't get it, Roman. You're a pretty privileged guy. But you know, not all of us were born with silver lemons in our mouths-"

"That's – what-?"

" - We didn't grow up with lemon orchards in our front gardens like the rich folk –"

"Is that even a – a thing–?"

" we didn't get lemons grated into our morning bowl of "rich boy" oatmeal –"

"That sounds – completely disgusting –"

"But you know what Roman? We made do. We made our own lemons. When life gives you no lemons, make lemonade, that's how the saying goes and that's what we do."

"Dean?" whispers Seth, softly. "That was so beautiful." A single drop falls from his eye and traces down his cheek where it hangs, shimmering with emotion – and Roman's heart flies out to him. It is all he can do to not wrap the younger man in a hug so tight that he will never cry again.

"Seth you have lemonade on your face did you know" says Dean

"It keeps dripping off my hair when I frown," frowns Seth.

"Geeze, Seth...I thought you were _crying_ –"

"Crying out for more homestyle lemonade, maybe!" Seth licks at the lemonade on his cheek. He can't quite reach, but he should be commended for his perseverance. Dean gives him a big hug from behind and makes a comfy noise, but doesn't say anything. He may or may not be chewing Seth's hair again.

"So what is this, lemon squash?" asked Roman, washing his hands of the sticky liquid. "Lemon kool aid?"

"Yeah, pretty much!" Dean refuses to stop hugging Seth so Roman just steers them both out of the door like a damp human train. "It's really easy; I just make him up a thing of it each morning. You just get some boiling water, and a bowl,"

"And a measuring jug!" says Seth, dragging Dean along cheerily.

"Yeah, and a measuring jug, and a spoon,"

"And some sugar!"

"Yeah, and a whole lotta sugar, just fill up a coffee mug with it. He really likes the sugar part–"

"I really do," confirms Seth.

"You _add _sugar to lemon squash?" says Roman doubtfully, "Do you... do you really need it that sweet?"

"Oh, there's no lemon squash", clarifies Seth helpfully. "that's what makes it so good!"

"Yeah no, you just stir all the sugar up into the boiling water until you've got this great syrup."

"...and...? ...Then?" presses Roman.

"That's it! That's the beauty of it, it's so simple. Spoon it into a bottle and you're done!" Dean lets go of Seth to high five him. They miss first time ("whoops!"), graze fingertips the second time ("Oh! So close!") and finally connect palms and cheer in celebration.

"Believe in the sheild!"

"Belieeeeve in the sheild! Come on, Roman! Roar like a lion!"

"Wait – what? What about the lemon part?"

Seth rolls his eyes. "Roman! Did you even listen to the proverb?! We didn't all grow up with sweet, crunchy lemons in our fruitbowls, just waiting to be bitten in to-"

"Wh - have you ever even _eaten _a_ –"_

"Roman, Roman, Roman," Dean interrupts, "Lemme guess – you won't drink coffee either, unless it's a big brand rice-milk frappuccino with extra marzipan syrup, or whatever you elitists are drinking these days –"

"Uh...well it's not _that..."_

"Guess what! News flash! This just in! Sometimes homemade stuff tastes better!"

"Yeah, extra extra! Read all about it: Dean's lemonade is AWESOME."

"What's with this newspaper thing –?"

"It's so delicious! And so much fun! Like everything moves really really fast and brightly, and I get all these great ideas all at once! Sometimes it even improves my dancing! Everything looks brighter when I've drunk some of Dean's lemonade!"

"You hear that? I mean I'm not pretending to be some expert chef or anything, but I've NEVER had complaints from Seth about my lemonade."

Roman struggles with this concept for a moment. "Lemme just get this right – you mix a full _mug _of sugar with boiling water, and you call it lemonade, and you give it to Seth to drink?"

"Yup!"

"Pretty much!"

"I – I don't even know what to say. That's all you put in it? Nothing else?"

"Nope!" says Seth happily. "Oh, well, sometimes he adds food colouring in for me if I'm good!"

"...If you're good?"

"Yeah, like if I let him practise submission moves on me when we hang out! Y'know, and if I keep my blindfold on I get like green, or blue -"

"Uh – blindfold?"

"NOTHING!" says Dean. "God Seth you're so random can we just go already we're gonna be so late if you keep gabbing on" He turns to Roman confidingly, "He doesn't know what he's saying. He's had a lot of lemonade."

Roman opens his mouth to ask a question but then they're at the entrance to the ring! Ready to shoot their promo! The stadium is so big, and the lights are so bright and sparkly that Seth cheers aloud! He cheers and cheers and cheers until they have to shut him up because people are staring.

All things considered, they had a great day, and afterwards they hung out at Roman's hotel room and Dean made him up a special extra-large thing of lemonade all of his own! He drank it surprisingly quickly while Dean and Seth were looking out the window at a raccoon in the parking lot, and confessed that it was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted. Weirdly his potted plant just up and died overnight. Just kind of lost the will to live.

To celebrate the unexpected doubling of his lemonade's fan base, Dean instigated a pillow fight and much fun was had by all until the small hours of the morning! Unfortunately it did all get a bit out of hand, and Seth and Roman ended up having to lock him in the bathroom for a bit. But he did calm down eventually, and helped Roman to clean up some of the feathers and broken glass, and held an ice pack on Seth's eye for him. And after a long game of "I spy" (during which Seth only ever spied the ice pack, to much amusement and general merriment) they all fell asleep very happily together in a big pile on the bed.

Authors notes:

There it is, folks! There's doubtless more of this to come as it really is the antidote to the angsty moody porny fics I'm working on in my free time. Reviews and comments, as always, are love.


	2. Chapter 2

Authors notes: I cannot apologise enough for this series. That is all.

Today is Sunday, or "Funday" as Seth insists on calling it, because today they all get to shoot an official Shield Promo in–ring, and because this will undoubtedly be fun. Roman has washed and ironed all of their gear for them, and they all spent the night before brushing their hair exactly 100 times to get that silky soft "princess hair" look. This is a technique that Seth taught them, and swears by. He wisely renamed it the "success hair" technique before introducing it to them though. He has a gut feeling that they don't want "princess hair", although he can't say how he knows this. He just does – he knows it as the wave knows the shore, and as the egg knows the spoon – a deep, almost spiritual instinct – one as old as time itself.

He well remembers last month's unnecessary furore over his use of the term "spangle pants" to refer to his lucky underwear. And there'd been quite a backlash against him calling their group meetings "cuddle huddles" – in fact a vote had been cast (2 against 1) banning him from ever using the term again. Then there was the whole controversy over the time he'd made honey sandwiches for everyone and called himself "queen bee" in passing, as a total _joke, _but they'd really kicked up a fuss about it.

The guys are kind of fussy when it comes to nicknames for things. However, "success hair" has gone down a treat, and today Roman's jet mane flounces upon his shoulders in shimmering ringlets as he strides down to ringside.

"Damn, nice setup!" says Dean as they approach the ring, and he's nottalking about Roman's hair, although that _is _a nice setup and matches his black Shield gear perfectly. No, he's talking about the gear that's been set up in ring for their promo. Not only can they make use of the company's amazing lighting rig, they've also been lent one of the company's state–of–the–art cameras – high definition, full FDGA, complete with tall metal tripod and zoom lens.

The camera gleams beneath the spotlights, sleek and expensive. Roman is very taken with it.

"This is a KT–2500!" he enthuses. "This baby has superb picture quality, I'm talking _seriously_ high definition...lens aberration correctional functions, multi–level sound recording... I can't believe we get to use this thing!"

"Damn." Dean whistles lowly and slicks his princess hair back. I mean his success hair. It looks really sunkissed and successful. "Looks like we're gonna shoot one serious promo. Does this thing have a filters function–?"

"BELEIVE IN THE SHEILD!" cheers Seth Rollins from the back of the arena, and begins cartwheeling down the stairs towards them.

"Don't cartwheel down the stairs, Seth," says Roman, without taking his eyes off the lovely, lovely camera. "You look like a runaway tire."

"SH–SH–SH–EI–EI–EI–EI–L–L–L–L–LLD" shouts Seth indistinctly, building up some speed.

"Don't jump the barricades," calls Dean. "There's a camera set up here."

"ON-N MY–Y WAY–Y–Y –"

"No, DON'T jump the barricades –"

"LITHE AS A CAT!" Seth leaps – somersaulting gracefully over the barricades and barrelling straight into the camera. It falls and smashes into a hundred thousand expensive smithereens.

"Oh my GOD" groans Roman, and covers his face with his hands. "_SETH_."

"SETH WHY? WHY, SETH?" Dean wails, falling to his knees and cradling the camera's broken body in his arms.

"Oh my god I didn't SEE it! Is it a robot?!" gasps Seth, falling to his knees and stroking the camera gingerly.

Dean glowers at him, a terrible vengeful fire beginning to burn in his eyes; an unholy darkness brewing in their depths like black coffee made by the devil hisself. This coffee has no sugar in it. There is no sugar in hell, only aniseed syrup, and Dean metaphorically stirs three shots of this foul liquor into his malevolent glare and directs a pure, liquorish flavoured hatred towards Seth.

Seth is oblivious. He doesn't drink coffee, so this metaphor is entirely lost on him.

"Did I kill it?" he asks, and tenderly thumps the top of the camera in an attempt to revive it. The hi–definition FDGA enabled multi–zoom lens falls out of the casing and begins to roll away slowly.

"The lens!" yells Roman – "Quick – grab it!"

"I'LL GET IT!" shouts Seth, eager to make amends. He chases it over to the barricades and stamps on it quickly before it can roll any further. Roman and Dean stare at him, aghast.

"Got it!" he announces, proudly. He lifts his shoe up cautiously. "... uh oh... Was it glass? ...Do you guys have any, um... glue?"

"_Seth for fucks sake_" groans Roman and leans heavily against the ring. Dean is somewhat less proficient at controlling his rage. He drops the broken camera to the floor with a crash and advances on Seth.

"_You_." He hisses, eyes blazing with a furious fire coloured fire, as orange as the bill of a furious swan. Seth backs up sharpish. He has had run–ins with swans before. He had his thumb bitten by one once, and had only a slice of bread to defend himself with.

"Sorry!" he tries, raising his hands, fingers spread wide with appeasement. He wishes he had a slice of bread right now. All of that cartwheeling has made him peckish. _Peckish. _He gets a sudden swan flashback and tucks his thumbs in, hastily.

"I'm going to shake you, Seth," promises Dean, darkly, stalking closer. "I'm going to shake you until you're sorry Seth."

This alarms Seth. He grabs the steel steps and warns Dean away with them like a lion–tamer with a chair. "Don't shake me! I just drank a load of lemonade!"

"Good," growls Dean, grabbing the steel steps and tearing them away from him. "I'm gonna shake you like a lemon vine."

Roman would look askance, but he is busy counting to 100 and clearing his mind of stressful thoughts. Lemon vines are the very last thing on his list of problems right now.

"You broke the camera, now I gotta break you. It's a fair trade!"

"Wait – c–camera?!" Seth says desperately, clutching at straws, "That was a _camera? _W–wait – I have a camera! I have one we can use!"

"You do?" asks Dean, suspiciously, the steel steps raised threateningly above his head.

"Yes! Yes! I swear! We can use that one instead!"

Dean lowers the steps and considers him. "A _good_ camera?"

"A GREAT one! It's got loads of functions!"

"Like _what_?" Dean demands.

"It's – it's got a flash –?"

Dean and Roman stare at him in stony silence.

"It – uh, it's got zoom in –"

"I'll zoom in on your face," promises Dean darkly, lifting the steps back up again, "with THESE!"

"WAIT! It's got zoom out, too!" But Dean is bearing down upon him, a maniacal grin on his face. "It's SPLASH PROOF!" he tries, desperately. "It's got filters!"

Dean pauses. "Filters?"

"Yes! Yes! Oh god yes! So many filters! Tens of them!"

"What _kind _of filters?"

"It– uh – it's got one that puts balloons in the picture –"

"Balloons?"

"Like a –a frame of – of cartoon balloons –" Seth says haltingly.

"What _else_?" growls Dean, threateningly.

"There's one that um, puts party hats on people? There's... there's one called bubblerama?"

"What does that one do?" Dean asks, eyes narrowed.

"It – puts bubbles around everyone."

"Real bubbles?" Dean demands, "Or _cartoon_ bubbles?"

"C–cartoon..."

"No," Dean growls. "I don't like it." He appears to be readying himself to hurl the steel steps at Seth's head. The thought of them clanging off his thick skull makes him inordinately happy.

"WAIT! DEAN WAIT! There's a black and white one! There's a _sepia_ one!"

Dean stops abruptly "_Sepia?_ You mean like that back in time style?"

"Yeah! It – it makes the shot look really old!"

Dean throws the steel steps aside cheerily. Roman only just dodges aside in time. He looks around, kind of annoyed.

"That sounds perfect! Roman – you hearing all this? Seth's got a camera! We can just go shoot the promo on his!"

Roman looks unconvinced. But frankly, there aren't many other options here – either they use Seth's camera or they'll have no promo at all.

He sighs and shrugs, grudgingly. "Fine, fine. But we gotta get out of here, or we're gonna get into trouble. Seriously, Seth, you just broke a $8000 piece of equipment. Absolutely ridiculous."

"OKAY! C'mon guys, let's get out of here!" Seth vaults gracefully over the barricades and crashes into a standalone lighting rig. It bursts into flame and collapses dramatically downwards into itself into a smoking pile of dust and rubble.

"Seth–" Roman begins, tiredly, and gives up.

"_Damnit_ Seth," says Dean, but he can't be bothered to pick up the steel steps again. Everyone just looks at the rubble sadly for a bit.

"We can't just leave this all here," says Roman, eventually. "It's still smoking_. _They're gonna know it was us. We should blame it on someone else, make it look like a revenge thing."

"Yeah!" says Dean, warming to the idea, "We should leave a note from the culprit! Is there any paper round here?"

Seth triumphantly pulls out a heart shaped post–it note pad from one of his vest pockets, and holds it aloft like Excalibur.

Dean stares at it bleakly. "Is there any _other_ paper round here...?"

There wasn't. After some interminable bickering they all gather round the barricades to compose a note.

"Okay," says Roman, "Just write it as though someone's out to get us, y'know –"

"Wait – who's got a pen?" asks Dean, looking around.

Seth has a pen. He pulls it from his holster with a flourish, to general agitation.

"What the fuck is _that_?" Dean appears to have taken against the soft, fluffy purple feathers which constitute the pens unique selling point. Roman is more perturbed by the sproingy photo–on–a–spring that bobs about winningly on the cap of the pen.

"Is that a picture of _us?" _He demands, trying to get a closer look. It is. A picture of all three of them, scowling menacingly from within a glittery shield shaped frame.

"It's my shield pen," says Seth, proudly.

Dean does not look happy to hear this. "What colour does it write in? What does that say –?" He peers at the writing on the side. "'Purplicious 'go–girl' glitter?' OH MAN SETH WHAT IS THIS"

"Do you want me to write the note or not", says Seth, haughtily.

"uh, NO-"

"YES, yes, we do," says Roman impatiently, "just do it quickly, before someone comes along."

Seth scribbles furiously, tongue sticking out in concentration. Dean is busy levelling a death glare at the purple glitter ink, but it doesn't particularly seem to notice.

"Ok!" Says Seth, finishing, "How's this? 'Sorry I rolled on your camera and it brok – Seth Rollins.'"

"Whaaaat? _No_ –" Dean stares at him like he's crazy.

"Huh?! No, no that's a _confession _note..." Roman frowns. "No, we want someone to find it and be like 'oh, man, I can't believe someone _did _this to The Shield!'"

"And you spelt broke wrong..."

"Ohh..." Says Seth, as it dawns upon him. "So we're doing like a revenge thing? Right, sorry – I got it, I got it." He scrunches up the old note and gets a new heart shaped note ready. This one is pink.

Dean looks over his shoulder helpfully. "Just write like, y'know, "The Shield better watch out –"

"Okay, okay!" Seth elbows him away, crossly, "I GOT it! Gosh!" He starts to write again. He takes a while this time because he's pausing to think a lot.

Roman sighs impatiently. "Did you get stuck? What have you got so far?"

"Ive bruk your camera now you better beleive in the sheild" Seth reads, thoughtfully sucking the picture on the end of the pen.

"WHAT? That's even worse!"

"Do you even _get_ this plan?"

"Well - wait! I didn't even finish writing it yet," shoots back Seth, stung.

"But you've already said 'believe in the shield,' they're totally gonna know it's _us_ –"

"And you _still _spelt break wrong..."

"I SAID IT'S NOT FINISHED OH MY GOSH! WILL YOU JUST LET ME FINISH?" He explodes. "You guys NEVER let me finish! Do you seriously not trust me to write this?!"

Roman and Dean exchange guilty looks and fall silent.

"Seth?" says Roman, softly. ""I'm sorry. We should've let you finish. I'm just... I guess I'm just kinda anxious about someone coming and finding us here."

"We trust you", says Dean, and puts an arm around him. "We really do. I guess I'm just still in a bad mood about the camera. But that's no excuse to keep interrupting you. I'm sorry, Seth."

Seth turns and smiles at his two friends. "No – _I'm _the one that should be sorry. I bruk the camera. I totally screwed up. But the last thing I wanna do is screw up this friendship! It's just... you have to _trust_ me, sometimes. I can _do _this, y'know? I just wanna know you guys are behind me."

"We're with you, Sethy," assures Dean.

"All the way," adds Roman gently.

"Thanks, guys." Seth smiles warmly at them. "That really means a lot to me. _You _really mean a lot to me." Dean and Roman smile happily at each other as Seth finishes writing the note. "Okay, done!" He says after a pause, "Let's get outta here!"

"Okay! Just – read it back real quick!"

"ive bruk your camera now you better beleive in the sheild," reads Seth, proudly. "Love Seth Rollins."

"WHAT?" bursts out Roman in disbelief.

"_That's _what you added?! _Love _Seth Rollins?"

"That's totally inappropriate," says Roman, shaking his head.

"TOTALLY inappropriate. You can't put _love Seth Rollins_." Dean crosses his arms, glaring.

"What's the problem?!" says Seth defensively, "It's polite to sign off a note! Geeze, why are you getting all mad? I put 'love Seth' at the end of _all_ my notes to you guys, and you literally NEVER complain."

"That's totally different," mutters Roman, sulkily

"Totally different." Dean glares at the floor.

"I mean I don't even care or anything. But people don't usually sign off "love" to just _anyone_..." Roman toys with the buttons on his flak jacket, moodily.

"Why even say it at all if you don't mean it?" gripes Dean. "Geeze I mean personally I don't care _at all_ if you mean it or not, but like, why even say it?"

Seth stares at them in confusion, unable to figure out what the problem is.

Dean glowers at him: "You don't even get the plan! Did you even listen to it? We're blaming someone ELSE for breaking the camera, we're _passing _the blame–"

"Geeze ok, ok, I'll write it again... you guys are using up all my sticky hearts..." Seth rolls his eyes and starts writing another note.

"And DON'T own up to it this time! _Pin_ the blame!" Roman sighs and runs a hand through his princess hair, tiredly. This is turning out to be way harder than it should be.

"Okay...but..." Seth hesitates. "Pin it onto who, though?"

"Oh my god, ANYONE! It seriously doesn't matter! Just hurry it up, we gotta get out of here before someone comes along."

"Ok, ok, ok, hang on...lemme just write this..." Seth pauses, chewing the end of the pen uncertainly. "Roman, is there a "g" in Reigns?"

"Yep. Wait, WHAT? Are you writing MY name?"

"Well – yeah –"

"Don't write MY name! Gimme that!" Roman snatches the note away and scans his eyes over it quickly. "LOVE Roman Reigns?"

"– you said blame someone else! I thought –"

"NOT ME! Oh my god. How is this so difficult? HOW?"

"Is it the signing off thing? You... you want me to put just "_from _Roman Reigns?"

"Just forget it, ok? Let's just forget the whole thing. Let's just get out of here, we'll shoot our own promo at the warehouse."

"And we can use my camera!" offers Seth, brightly.

"And your tripod?"

"Of course! You can use my Ipod whenever you want, you know that!"

Roman looks unhappy.

"Aww, c'mon Roman!" Says Dean, bracingly, "We don't need a tripod! We've got a sepia filter to be playing with! And I have a plan that you guys are gonna LOVE!"

...To be continued...

Authors notes:

In the next part: Find out what Dean's plan for the promo is - Discover what else Seth keeps in his pockets - And witness Roman's incredible patience in the face of extreme irritation! Oh boy. How ever will you contain your excitement?


End file.
